


Crime and Punishment

by raffinit



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: BDSM, F/M, General kinkiness, In which I doubt my sanity, Spanking, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily makes a decision to disobey and disregard orders while out on the field. Hotch isn't happy with it, and needs to remind her who she takes orders from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crime and Punishment

She knows the mistake is made almost even before it’s made. The very idea of thinking it is already the mistake, but she doesn’t have much of a choice. It’s a decision to make in that very moment; no second to be spared in doubt, lest she risks losing the life of that young little boy.

She will not have his blood on her hands.

And so she steps towards the gun-wielding maniac of their UnSub, and the little boy he holds pinned to his body.

She walks away with bumps and bruises, but with a live and shaken little boy.

The moment they touch down on federal soil though, all previous feelings of pride in a job well done dissipate at the first dark glare he sends her way. The flight home had been tense; the rest of the team had given her similar looks – amidst the concern and relief were warnings or displeased frowns at the way their Unit Chief had been glowering at her. His tone had been curt and detached almost the moment she defied his orders of ‘stay put and wait for us’.

She expects it, of course; she may have been able to get away with things not many of them could, but defying his orders out in the field is something they have an unspoken agreement to never do. 

According to Reid, whose eidetic memory has yet to fail him, the look of fear in the man’s eyes was even more terrifying than staring down the barrel of their UnSub’s gun. He had wanted to go in after her – taken three steps in the direction of the house before Morgan strong-armed him into staying behind the lines.

The man’s narration of their hostage situation is cut short very abruptly by the swirl of tailored suit and Italian shoes. Hotch spares them but a glance before uttering a very cold “Goodnight,” and promptly disappearing into the dim lair of his office.

Emily bites the corner of her lip out of habit; the coffee mug in her hold is set down on her desk as she casts a glance in Morgan and Reid’s direction. The dark cloud that hangs over their supervisor’s head is almost suffocating even to them, and Emily knows she is about to be strangled for her actions.

But it’s much too late to think about the consequences of her actions tonight. She has a hot bath and a bottle of wine waiting for her at home, the thundercloud of her Unit Chief will be handled tomorrow.

\--------------

Steam permeates the cold air of her bedroom as she steps out of her much needed hot shower; the sharp burn of the water on her skin washes away the tensions of her week with the lingering scent of vanilla and cinnamon. She unwraps the towel from her body and rubs at her skin vigorously, drying off the remnants of her shower before donning her bathrobe. The towel is scrunched into her hair, and she rubs at the damp ends to drain the water. 

She walks distractedly into her bedroom, and promptly screams in fright at the dark silhouette perched on the edge of her bed. She reaches for her gun, fingers fumbling over the vanity surface, but finds empty air in its place.

_“Agent Prentiss.”_

The panic and fear in her throat pounds persistently still though she recognizes the voice, as her eyes adjust to the light, and she can very clearly see him now; a statue in a perfectly tailored suit.

“Hotch, what the hell -?!” She pulls the towel from her hair, disregarding the damp tendrils clinging to her robe as she holds the cloth protectively to her body. Her chest and neck flare pink as heat rushes under her skin, spreading up across her cheekbones as she stares at the man in disbelief. 

He sits like a shadow in her bedroom, unmoving still until she flicks the light switch and the room is illuminated in a warm yellow light. He’s still in his suit, impeccable as always, and unreadable as ever as he sits primly on the edge of her bed. There’s something about his presence that makes her even more uncomfortable than the fact that he had somehow made his way into her apartment, and has been sitting there, waiting for her to finish her shower. 

“How did you get in here?” she demands from him now, watching warily as he smoothly rises from his seat, and walks towards her. There’s something about his strides; the calm purpose in them has the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck prickling, and she takes a careful step back away from him. 

He stops not two feet away from her; making no move to touch her. 

_“Shut the door.”_

She stares at him as if he’s lost his mind. A quick onceover assures Emily that he isn’t encountering some form of psychotic break, but she’s still huffing in righteous indignation at having her personal space intruded upon by her supervisor. The teams knows she likes her distance, and they do their best to respect that, particularly Hotch, because she shares the same need for personal space and privacy that he does.

“Hotch…” she begins, and jumps at the cold utterance that leaves his mouth the next moment. 

“You disobeyed an order out on the field yesterday, Agent Prentiss.” His voice is grim and tense, like the air around him. It surrounds the man like a cloak; it unsettles her nerves the same way his dark eyes boring into her face do.

Emily snaps her gaping jaw up and stutters to find a reply, but finds none in her mind as it struggles to process the fact that her Unit Chief is standing in her bedroom, and she is naked under her bathrobe.

He pushes onwards, sparing her no time to formulate a response. “I trust you understand now, why I’m standing here before you.”

There is a moment; hesitation, before the woman nods, slowly.

He arches an eyebrow coldly. “Do you really?”

The question shakes her nerves in ways she isn’t prepared for it to. Emily swallows thickly, regarding the man with a low look as the muscles in his shoulders tic; as do the muscles in his jaw. “Yes, I do.”

“Then you know that a punishment is in order.”

The breath in her chest hitches, and Emily begins to protest, citing her right as a federal agent to make decisions for the greater good of the people, and defy orders, and Hotch stands with an impatient air in front of her as she continues to rant about her duties as a federal agent. 

“Punish me in any way you want, sir,” she continues, folding her arms defensively across her chest; much too riled up to notice the way his dark eyes cloud and flash at the exposure of cleavage. “But that doesn’t explain what the hell you’re doing here. _In my apartment. In my_ ** _bedroom_**.”

It is then he smiles, a crooked and startlingly feral smirk. Suddenly Emily is painfully aware of the cold air and her exposed state. “Why don’t we sit in your living room, and I’ll tell you why. Perhaps over a cup of coffee?”

Emily purses her lips as she stares at the man, struggling to read the mask of his face as he stands before her. He wants her to make him a cup of coffee after he had broken into her apartment! The nerve of the man –

“I didn’t force my way into the apartment, Prentiss.” It is then she catches the metal gleam of a key in his hand. “I’m not a stalker or a thief.”

She heaves an irritable, reproachful sigh, casting one last glare in his direction before spinning on her heels and making her way downstairs into her kitchen. As much as his presence puzzles and almost frightens her, he is still her guest and supervisor. She trusts him; what harm can he do to her?

Famous last words, she thinks to herself sardonically, as she tucks the coffee filter into the machine and presses the green button. As she moves towards the island counter to retrieve her mugs, the hairs at the back of her neck prickle a warning, and Emily is suddenly aware that she is not alone in the confined space of her kitchen.

She screams, startled as large hands suddenly envelope hers and pin her body flush against the island counter. She arches her back at the contact against the cold marble, whirling her head to the side as she stares up at her supervisor’s face incredulously.

His grip is merciless; his face carved in stone. “You said I could punish you in any way I wanted, Agent Prentiss.” His hands flex over hers as she struggles against his body, and he jostles her roughly to still her movements. He waits until the fight wanes from her body and she relaxes somewhat, giving her hands a warning squeeze before releasing her. He fixes a dark gaze on her when she whirls to him. 

“I want you to take your punishments right here, right now.”

He moves around the island counter, across of her now as she stands there, floored and gaping at him as he calmly shrugs his coat down his shoulders and folds it over a dinner chair. When he turns back to her, she’s still staring, and his mouth tenses in annoyance.

The corner of his jaw tics. " _Come here._ " He sees the apprehension in her face, and glares at her irritably. "Are you deaf, Agent Prentiss?" he spits at her harshly. "I said _come here_!"

Emily jumps at the bark, entire body jolting like an electrical line, but the woman is moving before she can understand why. She walks slowly around the island, hesitant steps emphasized by the cold tiles on her bare feet until she finds herself staring eye-to-eye with the man. There is no way of describing what she sees in his eyes then - she prides herself at being able to read the Unit Chief as easily as Dave did sometimes, but now his face is almost indiscernible.

It’s terrifying...but still there is a rush of wet heat pooling between her legs.

She watches him on baited breath as he begins to fold back the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing the toned forearms that make her shudder at the thought of his punishment. Her skin is riddled in goose bumps from the frigid air of her apartment, and the unspoken thrill of his dark eyes on her body. 

“Turn around.”

She hesitates yet again, dark eyes staring at his face for a sign of humor or indulgence, finding nothing but stern authority. Very warily, Emily turns her back to him, hair prickling at the thought of exposing her blindside to the man as she faces the interior of her kitchen now. She can see their bodies reflected in the steel and glass of her oven, and the heady gleam of his eyes throws her even through the distorted mirror.

The air behind her is filled with his body as he comes hovering over her; the heat and raw power radiating off him has her shivering at the dense air. She refuses to turn around – she isn’t sure what she’ll see in his face, but she keeps her gaze forward and unmoving on their reflections as his hands come up to slide underneath her robe to stroke the skin of her sides. 

“What are you doing?” she croaks, struggling to suppress the need to keen against his large hands. They’re wide and warm and rough; a purr lodges in her throat and Emily clears it away abruptly. She will not admit this excites her in any way. This is his way of punishing her – cruel and unusual punishment from the side of Agent Hotchner that no one knew existed.

She hears him breathe, and realizes he’s much closer than she had anticipated as the warm heat of his breath comes gusting over her bare shoulder. “I’m punishing you, Agent Prentiss,” he utters simply, the coy lilt both grating her nerves and tingling them. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re taking advantage of a subordinate, sir,” she gasps breathlessly as his mouth drops to her shoulder and plants a soft, teasing kiss there. There’s a slight shift in his stance, and suddenly her robe is gone and the cold air is biting at her skin.

He rumbles in his throat, tasting her skin and nipping it in the slightest touch as he slides his hands around her narrow waist and presses them against the taut muscles of her abdomen, running lower and lower as he presses up against her back, mouth roving across the column of her neck. “Taking advantage, you say,” he growls against her neck, and grins at the shudder that resulted. “I don’t see you protesting very hard, now are you?”

Her breath hitches, caught in her throat as she smothers the urge to shiver against his touch and moan. The roughened pads of his fingers graze the tight skin of her abdomen, jolting her as his hips come forward, pressing against hers as he settles himself against the swell of her ass. The gasp that pulls from her throat is involuntary as Emily feels the hardened bulge of his arousal pressed into the back of her thigh.

"Be quiet, Agent Prentiss. I wouldn't want to have to make you,” he murmurs to her calmly; the heat of his breath is a heavy threat against the shell of her ear. Suddenly his movements still and his mouth is almost ticklish against her ear. “Don’t move.”

He pulls away suddenly, and Emily turns by instinct, only to have him shove at her shoulder in reproach. She grunts as she is manhandled back into position, stunned at the brusque motion coming from the man. Hotch has never in his life, that they know of, ever laid a hand on a woman; he’s not that guy, and he never will be. Yet he uses such brute force on her now. 

Her stomach starts to clench with a genuine fear, but she makes no further move to turn; only glares at the back of his head as he disappears into her bedroom. She shifts on her feet anxiously, gauging how and when to seize her window of opportunity for escape. If she’s fast enough, she can make for the front door and be down the hall in five minutes. But the cold gust of wind on her shoulder reminds her that she’s very much nude, and the only means of clothing she has is her robe, which the man has annoyingly left folded over the railing of her stairs.

His footsteps sound on the quiet hardwood, and Emily groans inwardly when he reappears. The window of opportunity has now been officially destroyed.

There’s a long black object in his hand, and Emily eyes it warily as he walks back to her, giving her shoulder one more warning shove until she puts herself back into the position he’d left her in. “Hotch, that’s my belt.”

“I know,” is the calm answer. She’s too stunned to ask him anything else, and he offers her no other explanation.

Very carefully he folds it into two, and then again, until it is a foot long and an inch thick in his hold. He reaches around her and raises it to her mouth, holding it there as she turns her head away defiantly.

"Bite down."

She whirls on him - her head, at least - and Hotch catches the scent of cinnamon and vanilla in an almost greedy inhale. Her eyes stare up at him incredulously but he is firm, glaring at her when she opens her mouth to speak. The firm set of his hips stops her from moving much, and the shift of her weight brings a delicious friction to his cloth-covered erection. To reinforce his command, he shoves against her roughly, slamming her against the cold marble of the island counter and eliciting a pained cry from the woman.

"Defy me again, Agent Prentiss, and you will know real pain." The cold, harsh growl isn’t something she's ever heard from him before; he’s cold and emotionless on cases and UnSubs, but this is on an entire new level of frightening authority. Every word drips with ruthless power, and Emily knows that he will stay true to his promise of inflicting pain.

She takes a shuddering breath, to calm her nerves, and hesitantly opens her mouth. The bones of her hips smart dully from the rough connection against the counter edge, and she knows that his patience and temper aren’t things to tempt now. The taste of leather on her tongue makes Emily flinch, but she does nothing else as he slides the belt over her tongue and waits for her to bite down. As soon as he’s certain the belt is firmly in place, he lifts his hand suddenly, and Emily starts.

It comes down in a gentle caress along her jaw. When he speaks to her now, it’s soft and soothing. "Good girl," he whispers, cupping her jaw in a loving stroke. His mouth comes down to kiss her cheek, and he brings it up along her ear as he runs his hand down along the column of her neck; down to her heaving chest. His large hand cups her breast, sliding over the pale skin and catching a straining nipple between his fingers. He strokes and palms and pulls; each movement careful and deliberate as it sends rivets of pleasure up and down Emily's spine and has her whimpering more protests around the belt in her mouth.

"I could make you feel so good," his low voice rumbles at her, the warm pads of his fingers circling a pebbled nipple as he pins her against the island. She’s practically bent over it from the pressure of his body against hers, and it’s a painful reminder of his authority as the counter edge digs into her hipbones and thighs. 

She moans low in her throat as he moves from one breast to the other, arching her back slightly as he buries his face into her hair and breathes. “I could make you moan my name; scream it to the ceiling and beg me like a dog. I could have you writhing in my hands and mouth.”

And then his hand is pulled away. 

She shudders at the loss; both of his hand and the weight of his body against her. The skin of her back is cold now as he steps back, but she knows better than to move after him. Instead she waits with her back to him, twitching anxiously as she hears the metallic catching of his belt buckle. She yelps in surprise when his hands come to her hips and forces her legs apart roughly.

"But tonight's about punishment, isn't it?"

Emily grunts in fright when he presses into her again suddenly, this time all pretenses of gentleness gone as he pins her hands against the counter and curls them around the edge firmly. "Should the thought of releasing your grip from this counter come across your mind, Agent Prentiss," he tightens his grip on her hands until he has her crying out at the pressure. "Know that there will be consequences to pay. Do you understand me?"

She nods her head, but is rewarded with an even tighter grip.

"I believe I have a title," he rumbles coldly.

Emily hesitates for a moment, and when his hands flex against hers in a warning, she swallows convulsively and nods her head again. "Yes, sir," she manages around the belt.

Muffled it may be, it seems to satisfy the man, and he releases his hold on her and steps back. It is a marvelous sight; the ever-wily Agent Prentiss, naked and bent over her island counter, her gorgeous ass and legs laid bare for his pleasure. Her pale skin almost glows in the dim yellow lighting of the apartment; unmarred porcelain skin that is his for the taking.

Even from where he stands, he can tell she’s excited; the wet gleam of flesh between her legs thrills him and reassures him in ways that he cannot explain. She wants this, no matter how hard she denies it, she wants this as much as he does. 

He grips his belt tighter in his hold. Tonight is not about pleasure, not entirely. He has to teach her to obey; she has to learn that defying him and risking her life intentionally has consequences. 

With a deep, calm breath, he begins.

_Crack!_

The first lash of the belt against her skin has Emily recoiling violently, a scream muffled around the belt in her mouth. She bites down hard into the leather as tears spring in her eyes and the sharp sting of pain spreads over her ass, but she is spared no room for escape when the next stroke comes lashing across the back of her thighs, harder now.

_Crack!_

A muffled sob rips from her throat as she grips the counter in a desperate agony. Her breaths come in harsh pants as her body struggles to register the pain, and as she begins to turn around, releasing her grip, another whip comes across her ass, even more brutal than the previous.

"Move again, Agent Prentiss, and you won't be sitting for the rest of the week, at least."

Her teeth sink deep into the leather of her belt, and she knows it will never be the same again, but the only thought running through her mind is 'Dear God, what have I done to deserve this?' She flexes her grip, knuckles white and ass stinging as she forces herself to stand still. She wants desperately to rest her weight against the counter edge, to take some pressure off her feet, but the smarting skin of her thighs are a warning enough.

So she swallows a breath, and her pride, and stands waiting. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again, sir." The sound of her voice is almost unrecognizable; when had it lowered to such a wanton husk?

“Good.” 

She can hear him step forward, and Emily jumps slightly when his large, cool palm comes up to caress the heated skin of her ass. It’s welted red and blooming pink, and he admires the lashes across porcelain skin as he strokes her ass, moving down to her thighs. “It’s such a shame to have to ruin such perfect skin,” he murmurs thoughtfully, and his large fingers stroke upwards between the reddened cheeks of her ass, brushing against the wet strip he finds there.

He smiles at her strangled gasp as he delves two fingers into her folds; so deliciously hot and tight around his digits as he pushes through the sinewy flesh and plunders further. She clenches in an effort of denying him, forcing her body to fight the intrusion, but even her body betrays her as the wet heat guides his fingers deeper inside her. 

He continues stroking her for a moment, alternating between thrusting and scissoring his fingers while his free hand finds creative ways of manipulating the sensitive bud between her folds. His pressure is unrelenting until she’s gasping for breath and shaking on her tiptoes; she’s at the precipice and she hates it. It spurs him further as he curls his fingers upwards, stroking the grooves inside her and pressing against her clit until her thighs tense and she lets out a long, shuddering moan.

The rush of fluid coats his fingers as he continues thrusting languidly, ignoring the pleading mewls and keens of the woman and persisting until she sucks in a choking breath and twitches violently again.

The groan that comes from Emily’s throat is both dismayed and relieved, and he allows her only a brief moment of respite as he folds his belt once more, and paces the small space behind her. 

Emily’s head is spinning madly when he finally pulls his fingers from within her, throbbing harshly as she struggles to gather herself from the second orgasm he had pulled from her body. Her legs were trembling still, much too weak to stand her weight, but she leans against the counter desperately as she sucks in greedy breaths of air until her vision clears and she can focus on something other than the way his fingers felt inside her. 

Her wriggling body brings a smirk to his face, and he reaches out to caress the reddened skin of her ass once more. She’s dripping wet now; he knows by the way her face flushes red that she’s ashamed of her arousal, as she should be. 

He steps to the side, where he knows he’ll be in her line of sight, and brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking the digits into his mouth with a careful precision.

“You taste delicious, Agent Prentiss.”

Her cheeks burn redder. She shifts on her feet, turning her face away from the man as he runs his hands along the swell of her ass and down her sides. He reaches up for her face, pausing when she jerks her face away from him again, and his features darken.

Tears spring to Emily’s eyes when palm of his hand connects to her cheek, her teeth bear down harder on her belt as the slap stings the skin of her cheek viciously. His hand pinches her chin and forces her watery eyes to look at him, and she smothers a whimper at the thunderous look she finds there.

“Do you like being insubordinate, Agent Prentiss?”

She shakes her head, but his grip only tightens further as his eyes blacken. She sucks in a breath through her nose, and tries again. “No, sir.”

He smiles, just a bare twitch out of the corner of his mouth before he releases her. “Good.” The belt is wielded in his hand once more, and he starts again.

_Crack!_

She takes each lash with a flinch and a pained grunt, but not much else as the sharp bite of leather against her skin slowly begins to fade, and Emily eventually finds herself able to numb out the pain. It’s her punishment for disobeying an order, and for the unspoken act of scaring him on the field. They agree to never walk into the line of fire blind, not after her return, and Emily takes the belting with the pained knowledge that she asked for this. She’s vaguely aware of the lick of the belt on her skin, and her ass will definitely bear its mark, but the voice in her head whispers to her very quietly.

_At least he wants nothing more. At least he wants nothing else from your body._

“Do you think you’ve had enough, Agent Prentiss?”

She’s not sure how long she’s been leaned over the counter, and when the questions comes it startles her, but Emily manages a response before he grows impatient. “Yes, sir. Please. Enough.” Her body is singing with sensations she’s not even sure she can categorize; her legs and arms tingle with pins and needles and the lack of movement -- her ass throbs in time with the pumping of her heart. 

He’s quiet for a moment; considering. “No.”

_Crack!_

She clenches her eyes shut tight, gripping the counter in a desperate strength. His lashes are sharper now, more wicked. 

“Will you disobey me again, Agent Prentiss?”

She swallows the saliva that gathers in her mouth – the taste of leather will put her off beef forever. “No.”

_Crack!_

Emily cries out weakly – he must have split skin, but she realizes her mistake. “No, SIR! I WON’T!” Her thighs are beginning to quake, she can’t hold herself up for much longer. 

“Good girl. You know I hate punishing you, Agent Prentiss, but I must. It’s necessary.” There’s only a touch of contrition in his voice – the rest is calm smugness.

“Why are you doing this?” she implores him desperately, immediately flinching with a harsh cry when she catches the shadow of his arm rising.

_Crack!_

She crumbles, one of her legs buckling as she staggers against the counter, and he’s immediately behind her, arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her to her feet impatiently. He rips the belt from her mouth, it holds the marks of her teeth deep into the leather, and he thinks he’ll keep it as a souvenir. He holds her steady for but a minute before he steps back with a stern glare.

“I warned you, Agent Prentiss,” he growls coldly, and brandishes the belt in a wicked lash across her ass. She squeals into the skin of her arm, sobbing quietly as she struggles to right herself, but he makes no move to soothe her. “You are being punished for being insubordinate. Sometimes you’re just asking for it, aren’t you? Hmm? You think you can walk around the office and out on the field and pretend like you answer to no one?”

She turns her head to him, and he allows it. “Sir? I never disobey orders intentionally.” Her eyes seek his beseechingly, begging him to concede and release her. She can very well remove herself from her position – he had not bound her permanently, but his words are binding enough to the woman. Defying his orders now, when he’s punishing her for doing that very thing at work, well, it’s a long walk down the Green Mile.

One look at his disappointed frown is more painful to Emily than the lashes that run across her skin.

He cocks his head to the side mockingly. “Don’t you?”

She shakes her head in vehement denial; sure he knows this. “No, si -.”

_Crack!_

“Augh!” Her knees buckle against the counter, and she uses it as support as she grips the counter edge and uses the strength in her arms to hold herself now – her legs can no longer be trusted to sustain her. She sucks in panting breaths, struggling to will away the smarting burn of leather on her skin, but it lingers like the flames of a fire, and Emily drops her head down as she prays for this to end fast.

“You know I don’t condone lying, Agent Prentiss. Especially not when it’s to my face.” 

The arrogance in his voice irks her, and Emily grits her teeth as she throws her head back and bares her teeth at the reflection in the oven. “Well to be fair, sir, I’m not looking at your face at the moment.”

_CRACK!_

Emily’s back arches in agony, eyes clamped shut and teeth gritted as she smothers the scream in her throat. “GOD!”

His nostrils flare at the insolence in her reply, foregoing the belt this time and lashing the heavy palm of his hand across her burning ass. “Evidently I haven’t been reinforcing my ways enough with you, Agent Prentiss, if you have such a lip even when I wield a belt to punish you.” He slaps her again, relishing the feel of her skin under his hold as she flinches and whimpers at the sharp contrast of the weight of his hand to the belt.

“I – I -.”

He reaches up, brushing her dark tresses away from her shoulders as he wraps a hand around her neck, squeezing hard as she arches her back and gasps for air. He feels the pounding of her heart under his thumb, stroking the pulse almost lovingly as he leans his face close to hers, whispering against her jawline as she reaches up with a hand to claw at his grip around her neck. “What is it, Agent Prentiss? Choose your words carefully – I like this belt; it’ll be a shame if I have to replace it.”

The firm grip of his hand around her neck threatens to bring stars to her eyes, and Emily pries at his hand desperately as she gasps for air and clenches her teeth when he tightens his grip. He wants an answer. “I’m…sorry, sir,” she stammers. “It won’t happen again.” Finally he releases her, and a surge of air floods her lungs as she sputters and coughs.

He frowns at her convulsing back and profile, turning away with a spin on his heels. There is a long moment of silence, a quiet so thick that when Emily catches her breath once more, she’s actually surprised to find herself not punished for it. She’s painfully tempted to turn around and look for him; she doesn’t see him in the reflection, and she makes a tentative turn to glance over her shoulder into the living room.

Did he leave? Is she free to go?

“Sir?” she calls out hesitantly.

_“Turn around.”_

Emily jumps at the sudden order, but spins on her feet carefully, hissing under her breath as the heated skin of her ass comes into contact with the cold surface of the counter. It both soothes and hurts her, and Emily is too distracted by the sight of the man seated in her armchair to be bothered by it for long. He’s seated in the shadows – the lights in her living room are off, but the light filtering in through her windows is bright enough to illuminate the angles of his face. 

“On your knees,” he instructs her.

Emily’s brow creases; she stops by the dining table suspiciously. “What?”

His neck rolls and he gives her an annoyed scowl as he rises out of his seat and marches over to where she stands, grasping her arm firm enough to bruise and shoving her back to his seat. “Get on your knees in front of me. Now.” 

The confidence and pride leaves her in a flurry, and Emily almost physically sags as she begins to beg the man for reconsideration. “Please, sir -.”

He slaps her across the face, brutally. It marks red almost immediately.

“Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Fearful, wide eyes terrified and unsure, she obeys. He’s seated imperiously in the chair now, leaned back and relaxed but the raw power is unmistakable. His slacks are unzipped, ominously parted, and he arches an eyebrow expectantly at her. He’s already hard, she can see it even now that he’s large, and she swallows the nervous lump in her throat. 

“Come here.”

She hesitates, the breath catches in her throat and she darts a glance from the prominent bulge between his legs to his shadowed face. Every part of her that she can feel is stinging something wicked; she’ll probably sit on a donut float for the rest of the week and use heavier foundation for her cheek, but she can’t disobey him. The defiance in her rages like a gathering storm and it roils in indignation at having to crawl on her knees for this man…

…but she takes a tentative step forward.

He smirks, a cruelly disarming thing. 

“Good girl.”

She reaches for him with a shaking hand, her own body mocks her submission to him as she slides her slender hand between the seams of his slacks and envelopes the thick heat. Her hand is cool and his skin is like a furnace; her careful touch elicits a pleased growl from the man. He’s large and heavy in her hand, the velvety skin twitches under her touch as she grasps it in her hand and strokes it slowly. From the swollen head, pearly drops of his pleasure seep like tears down the hardened length, and Emily strokes upwards; catching the drops and spreading it over his skin.

He growls again, a sharp gust of breath as she pleasures him with her hands, alternating in strengths in her grip and movements in her wrists. Her dark eyes stare up at his handsome face, thrown back and contorted into a gratified hiss before she turn her gaze back down to the throbbing length before her. She reasons with herself that perhaps if she satisfies him with her hands – with her mouth, if he demands it – he will concede that she has been sufficiently punished, and release her. But then another corner of her mind flashes red at the thought of him forcing himself on her – he’s much too big, and she’s sure he won’t be gentle.

Unconsciously her tongue darts out to lick the dry corner of her mouth, before she takes him into her mouth.

The resulting snarl gratifies her, despite her position between his legs, and Emily grasps the thick base in her hand as she runs her tongue along the underside of his cock. He twitches in her mouth, and the salty taste lingers on her tongue as she sucks him off. She’s careful and precise; a man like him will punish her even more brutally if she fails to perform this task for him, but Emily consoles herself in knowing that it will be over soon enough.

His hand curls into her hair, guiding her head down onto him with a firm, consistent pressure until she takes all of him in her mouth. She freezes for a moment – he waits because he feels the resistance in her throat, and his hand caresses the back of her neck until the last of him is nestled inside her mouth. 

“There now,” he sighs finally, a groan caught in his throat as her head begins to rise and fall, and her lips come to envelope him in the most delicious way possible. “Isn’t that a much better use of that pretty mouth of yours, Agent Prentiss?”

She gives him no response – she can’t, after all – but raises her dark eyes in a low glare as she swirls her tongue around the sensitive tip, tasting him at the edge of her tongue. She takes him into her mouth again, pull out slowly until only the tip of him lingers in her mouth, and she sucks onto his flesh until her cheeks hollow and his hips thrust up in a sudden jerk.

“Enough.”

He pulls on her hair roughly, pulling her mouth from him suddenly, and Emily’s eyes are wide with fear once again as she waits for a punishment for something she has done to displease him. Her eyes fall shut and she flinches readily when he leans forward in his chair, but no punishment comes. Instead she is shoved backwards roughly, and Emily yelps in fright as she sprawls backwards from the suddenly jerk. She scrambles away on her hands as her feet scrabble against the wood for purchase, but he’s on his feet and standing over her.

She cries out as his hand curls into her hair with a vicious purpose, and the woman has no choice but to obey as he shoves her up along the stairs. She stumbles over her feet and she falls, but Hotch barely stops as he hauls her by her hands up to her bedroom and shoves her onto the bed in the middle of the room. Her back slams into the mattress a blunt thud; the muscles aching dully as he comes looming over her. She screams slightly despite herself as he jerks her legs down over the edge, gripping the covers tight in her hands as he spreads her thighs apart. 

“Hotch, please!”

Her plea serves only to infuriate the man, and Hotch raises his black eyes to her as he reaches up slaps her across the mouth again. Her head snaps to the side at the sheer force, and Emily’s eyes pool with tears as she curls her lips inwards to soothe the pain. She squeaks when his hand grasps her chin tightly, and she opens her tear-filled dark eyes onto his ruthless ones. The intensity she sees there frightens her, and she reaches up in a desperate move of escape to shove at his chest, but the wall of muscle barely budges.

A metallic click fills the air between then, and Emily finds her left wrist manacled by the cold metal of handcuffs. Handcuffs she recognizes to be her own.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispers pleadingly, crying out as he whips her arms outwards, dragging her by her hands up towards the top of the bed. Her arms strain and protest under the pressure, and her muscles threaten to cramp when he finally slams her against the headboard and snaps the handcuffs around the wrought-iron of her headboard. She struggles against her bonds in vain, but Emily refuses to sit idle yet again as he leans back and admires her naked body in that maddening way of his.

She arches away from his hands as they run along her bare skin, twisting her body this way and that to shake his callused fingers away from the skin of her stomach and hips. The creaking of the bed frame seems to irritate the man now, and his grip suddenly tightens over her in reproach, and Emily finds herself crying out in pain as he pins her thighs against the mattress. Her muscles struggle to accommodate the stretch, and it’s only by Emily’s natural flexibility that alleviates the pain eventually. 

She watches through her frantic pants as he lowers himself between her spread thighs, and shivers when the warm heat of his breath blows against the sensitive skin of her pubic bone. 

“One more sound from you, Agent Prentiss….” His low growl tapers ominously, and Emily jolts when his thumbs come up to spread her open; the cold air and hot breath making her writhe with a petrified anticipation. She can feel her arousal dripping, and it permeates the cold air now as struggles to flex her thighs and allow herself some comfort. 

His mouth is like the fire of a furnace as it drops down over her, the damp greediness that is his tongue sliding easily between her spread folds and seeking the spicy sweet nectar within them. He moves with a stealth that startles her, circling the sensitive hood of her clit until he coaxes it from beneath its hiding place, sucking it into his mouth and giving it a long, painful pull.

Emily bites down hard on her lower lip, tasting the rust of her blood in her mouth as her hips buck off the bed and she writhes into his greedy mouth. The scream tucks tight in her chest, waiting for its release, but she sucks in a strangled gasp, and pushes the pressure aside. Her mind spins in dizzy circles and tumbles; her ears ring as if bells chime from every corner of the room, but she makes no sound herself as the sharp nip of his teeth graze the sensitive skin of her labia.

Her hips jerk at the sensation and the man growls out a gratified sound as he busies himself with devouring her, latching onto her throbbing clit and sucking hard until she sucks in a shrill gasp and sobs violently as her body trembles and shakes and the pink flush spreads across her chest. Her toes curl as her back arches and stupefying release ravages her body in sharp electric lines of pleasure spreading across her body. 

The sharp sting of his palm connecting with her skin accompanies the sob that rips from her throat as he pulls his mouth from her, licking his lips and wiping his chin against her inner thigh. Her toes are still twitching when he grips her soft, pliant skin in his hands, and lifts her hips. There is no gentleness in his hold as he lifts her hips from the mattress and settles on his knees between them.

Emily moans quietly, painfully as she flexes her arms and grips tightly to the bars of her bedframe – the only leverage she has. She watches him lift her legs to his shoulders, shivers at the wet kisses he places along the skin of her calves. “Please.”

His movements still, his dark eyes rake over her body like a physical touch before settling on her face. Their eyes meet, and there’s something flickering behind their dark eyes, something more than just a punishment. There’s something more in his eyes than just the need to punish. He slides his hands along her legs, caressing the tight muscle and worshipping the porcelain skin; a surprisingly gentle touch. “What are you begging for, Agent Prentiss? I hardly think you’re in any position to make demands.”

The low purring voice tempts her like a spell; Emily swallows a tight breath and struggles with the words that swell in her chest. Her body aches like it’s never ached before – she’s not sure her pride will ever recover from this, but she needs this. It’s like a switch has been flipped; she wants his body – _needs_ him inside her or she’ll go insane. His hands and his mouth have pleasured her well enough, but still her body craves that final touch. 

“If you’re going to punish me, sir,” she grits breathlessly, staring up at his unreadable face. “You might as well get something out of it.” Her ass smarts at the uncomfortable friction of his slacks against it; he’s holding her body pinned to his at an angle, prepared to punish or to reward in any way he pleases. 

He arches an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden change, and he gives her a suspicious frown. “Are you trying to bribe me, Agent Prentiss?” The hand that had been stroking her leg almost lovingly tightens over her knee, and he begins to spread her legs as he aligns himself to her core. The wet brush of his cock against her hot heat elicits a sharp breath from the woman, but he moves no further as she stares up at him pleadingly. 

“I don’t take bribes, Agent Prentiss,” he utters coldly. With a harsh thrust, he surges forward.

Emily’s head drops down onto the pillows, a silent scream on her parted lips as her body tenses at the penetration – her arms strain in her bonds, muscles taut as she arches her back and struggles to fight through the pain. Despite how wet he’d made her, she’s still painfully tight, but the man is merciless as he thrusts forward and pull out, repeating the process with even more force. 

She finds her voice finally when he slams into her again, sobbing at the pressure of his hips connecting to hers. She gasps as he falls over her, hands framing her head as he lowers his hips into much deeper thrusts that her mind spins at the dizzying feel of him buried so deep inside her. She arches her back, strains her neck upwards in a desperate search for air as his frenzied thrusts pound the bedframe into the wall. 

His harsh pants meld into her gasping sobs; a cacophony of pleasure and desperate heat as his body moves over hers in a viciously pace. He’s almost fully dressed, she’s completely nude. The stark contrast of fabric on skin makes them both jolt in a sudden twitch as he forces himself onto his hands and pounds harder into her. 

It’s like he wants to split her into two. Her head dances and her eyes roll into the back of her head as his harsh pants breath hot into her ear. Her hands flex and her arms strain at the pressure of his body against hers, and she lets out a frustrated sob at not being able to touch him. He’s harsh and unforgiving, caring only about his own release now, but Emily doesn’t care. She hasn’t been able to touch him at all tonight, and she supposes that’s part of her punishment, but with him pressed so deep inside her, so intimately, it drives her crazy.

Hotch smothers a groan in his throat as she flexes around him, staring down at her face in a heated gaze as he reaches out to caress her slackened jaw. Her pale body is pulled tight from the handcuffs, her lithe body peppered in sweat and red welts where his mouth and hands fell. The male swell of pride that wells in his chest is almost overwhelming as he takes in the marvelous view before him. No other man has done this to her; this is not the work of a crazed UnSub or a lousy ex-boyfriend. 

They didn’t mark her – _he_ did.

“You are mine, Agent Prentiss.” The possessive snarl leaves no room for argument – it is a statement; an empirical fact. “You are no one else’s. Every inch of you – every part of you is mine and mine alone, do you understand me? From the tip of your toes to the last strand of hair on your head, you are _mine_.”

“Yes, sir!” she screams, cinching her legs around his narrow waist and urging him impossibly deeper inside her. “Please, sir! I’m so close!” The tense coil of heat in her stomach is blinding already, just a little further, just a little more, and she’ll fall like a meteor over that edge. 

He curls his hand in her hair; she arches in a desperate scream. “I want to hear it, Emily! I want to hear you say it!”

She screams like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. “YOURS! I’M YOURS, SIR!”

The camel’s back meets the straw as he gives one last, brutal thrust, and Emily thrashes under his body, screaming out her release to the ceiling as she clamps down hard on his cock. His thrusts cease almost immediately as well, her grip is so merciless on him that she can feel each pulsating jet of cum that rushes from his body with the roar from his throat. His hips jerk reflexively as he empties himself inside her, shuddering so hard Emily thinks he’s about to seize. There’s so much of it that it seeps into the covers under them and into the material of his slacks, but he doesn’t care. 

He buries his face into her hair as he crumbles, groaning hoarsely as he lets his hips linger between hers, and waits for the last twitches of his orgasm to fade. When he finds his breath at last, he pushes himself into his hands with what energy he has left, and stares down at Emily’s exhausted but immensely satisfied face. 

His brows find each other in worry. “Are you okay?” His hands are moving up to the handcuffs on the wrought-iron, slipping the key into the lock and releasing her hands in a rush. Emily moans her relief and lets her hands fall limply onto the pillows beside her, but the small smile on her lips never leaves. He cups her face and kisses on the mouth – the first time in the whole night. 

She moans into his kiss, arching her neck up to deepen the kiss before pulling back with an almost idiotic grin. “Hi.”

The man hovering over her still looked agonizingly worried. “You’re okay?” His hand ghosts her arm, and Emily shivers at the sensation before nodding her head and using her stronger arm to wrap around his neck and pull him down to her. 

“I’m fine. Probably won’t be walking normal for the week, but I’m fine,” she murmurs against his mouth, sighing through her nose as he pulls out of her. There’s a bereft feeling about the separation, but she leaves the thought aside for now as she looks up into his dark eyes and strokes his face. It’s tense now, his thoughts are bothering him, and it bothers her to know that he’s already so pensive after a session. 

“Aaron?”

“I could’ve lost you.” The quiet confession is met with silence as she presses up against his chest and grasps his hand in hers, their fingers twining themselves. In the shadow of the bedroom, his face is troubled. “You could’ve been killed. You should never have gone in there in the first place.”

She strokes his chest, rubbing circles on the now rumpled material of his dress shirt as she lays her cheek over his heart and sighs. “Wasn’t that the whole point of tonight?” she asks him gently. Emily bites the corner of her lip as she stares up at his face, dropping a kiss on his jaw. “I’m sorry I scared you, honey, but that’s my job. I take the risks, and then it’s your job to remind me why.” She clings to his shirt, pressing herself into him and relishing the waft of sex and aftershave caught in his clothing. 

And then she smiled. “You called me Emily.”

He tenses under her hold, and then he rolls them away from the wet spot until she’s lying over him. Her hair falls in a dark curtain over her face, and he reaches up to brush it aside as he stares up tenderly at her face. It’s welted somewhat, but it won’t bruise because he knows better than to leave marks on her face. The game they play is a dangerous one, but they trust each other to never cross that line, and he holds firmly to his belief of never breaking the trust between them.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he utters quietly, blushing in the dim light. They usually never use their safe words unless absolutely necessary, but tonight it slips his tongue. The separation from work and home is important for them, incredibly so, but tonight he wanted that last connection to _Emily_ and not Agent Prentiss. 

And then he fixes a firm frown on his face, and his hands come up to give her ass a squeeze. He watches her face as she bares her teeth in a hiss, and smirks. “If you ever sass mouth again when I have a belt in my hand, you get extra spanks.” 

Emily hums an indulgent sound as she leans into his chest and kisses him in a purr. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with that, because you know you can’t tame this wildcat.” She grins at him, and he returns it almost readily.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep trying, now won’t I, Agent Prentiss?”


End file.
